Guarded
by ObsessiveImpulsiveDisorderly
Summary: He used his wit to disguise any true feelings which could potentially burst to the surface and reveal the fact that he really WAS just human. JxC
1. Chapter 1

Well, this is my first fanfic for Mortal Instruments. I may leave it as a oneshot, but i'd like to know what people think of this first chapter before i decide...so...here it is!

Disclaimer: I don't own these books :-(

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How many times would she have to watch him leave her behind? He was always hiding, keeping the wall between them which prevented her from seeing the slightest glimmer of emotion. It's what made it so hard to see him for who he really was; other than the seemingly emotionless, vindictive teenage boy.

He liked to hide behind sarcasm and jokes; she noticed that from the very beginning. He used his wit to disguise any true feelings which could potentially burst to the surface and reveal the fact that he really _was _justhuman.

But nobody can hide what they feel forever, because those emotions _will _come out eventually - either in actions or in words. She always had him pinned down as the type to strike out at these times: maybe with physical hurt or emotional hurt. He seemed the type to want everybody else to feel that pain too, so he wouldn't feel singled out in his hurt.

Although, she had been wrong about him so far.

When she walked away, he didn't chase after her like she thought he might; he stayed behind. When she screamed at him, he wouldn't scream back; he would grin. When she was gone, he wouldn't try to find her; he would go on as normal, without her.

He didn't show people that he cared, that would make it too easy for them to be taken away. He didn't want to deal with the grief; the pain of losing someone, so he didn't let himself get too close. Not with anyone else, except for those he already knew could care for themselves. His family, they'd seen the other side of him - although, they were used to the guarded part…everyone was.

She knew there would only ever be a select few times in which she could see the true side of him. The side without spite or cruelty. But they were accidental slips which would only present themselves for a few minutes - seconds, even - before retreating back behind the mental steel wall. But she would always savour those moments.

Moments in which he knew love.

"You're looking insightful," Jace noted, raising a mocking eyebrow. "Where's the Clary I know?"

Clary glanced up from the table, which her eyes had been trained on for the last fifteen minutes. Jace was sat across from her, smirking superiorly.

As usual, Clary noted.

She shrugged and gazed towards the clock, taking a few seconds to actually register the time in her mind. 11:36pm. "I'm going to bed," she told him distractedly, moving to her feet without looking at him.

"Past your bedtime?" Jace sighed teasingly, tapping his fingers along the wooden tabletop and grinning.

Clary ignored him and moved towards the door.

It was another few minutes she would note down in her mind that he had cut himself off. He would never let himself say something kind - Not that she'd expected him to kiss her goodnight! But a simple smile would be enough. Not a smirk, or a scowl, or a jibe.

But she knew he wouldn't change.

Clary also ignored his amused chuckle as she left.

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Whoop! That was fun to write, despite the angst.

So please review and let me know what you all thought and if I should write any more chapters :-)

Soffie  
xxxx


	2. Chapter 2

Well, the oneshot has become slightly less one...shooted? oh well. I might do one or two more chapters, as this isn't really a story so much as an insight into Jace and Clary.

Here's to my 4 reviewers. Not many, but I still loved all your comments (and I wouldn't have wrote this otherwise!)

Disclaimer: Don't own

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Why did she want him to change so badly?

How long had he known her for? Weeks? Months? A year?

He wasn't entirely sure - The days usually just blended into one another when you lived the life of a Shadowhunter. But he knew that however long or short the time was since that day in Pandemonium, she had possibly become one of the most important people in his life. But regardless of this - how he felt - she always seemed to want him to be someone else.

He might sometimes be described as a 'steel wall' - impenetrable, unfeeling, secure. But who wondered what was hidden on the other side?

More steel?

Maybe.

Or the boy who actually knew what it was like to feel.

And she waited for those moments when he would let his wall down, then she would charge in and trample all over every feeling he constantly hid and protected.

--

_You think you know me then, Clary? You don't. So you think you can change me? Well, you can't._

_--_

She might not do this intentionally, but she would leave behind a trace of herself every time she did. A part that would forever remind him that this was the girl who he decided to let in.

And who crushed him for it.

Jace was harshly brought back to reality when a sharp knock rattled the door. His eyes darted from where they had been settled on the ceiling to see who had stepped into the room, without his permission. He had been lying on his bed for the last half hour; his legs stretched out in front of him and his hands tucked behind his head. It was how he remained laying when Clary stomped into the room, her eyes blazing angrily.

Strangely, though; the first thing he noticed was the sketchpad in her hands.

"If you need me to pose," Jace muttered, glancing away from her again, "I don't do nude."

Clearly though, Clary was not willing to deal with Jace's sarcasm. She gripped the pad tighter in her arms. "It was you, wasn't it?" She growled.

Jace raised an eyebrow, his eyes still averted from her. "Well, that was vague," he commented dryly. "An elaboration would be helpful."

Clary slammed the door loudly and stepped towards the bed. She ripped open her sketchpad so Jace could see inside, but he didn't even turn his head. "You stole _all _of my sketches!" She fumed, dropping the pad down on his chest.

Jace lifted the pad slowly and examined it with undisguised boredom. It was true, every sheet of paper had been torn out. Some pencil strokes were left behind on a few remaining tears of paper, some larger than others. Whoever had ruined Clary's sketchpad had obviously done so in a fit of anger. Jace could tell by the harsh tears left behind.

--

_Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not the one to blame for this. Now crawl back into your pit of denial and let me be. _

_--_

He tossed the empty sketchpad to the end of his bed with a slight flick of his wrist. "I can see why someone might want to ruin such disgraces to art." He grinned wickedly. "But, I assure you, that person is not me."

Jace caught the brief spark of hurt pass through her eyes, but it faded soon enough. Her arm flashed through the air as she picked up her sketchpad again and made for the door, refusing to look at him again.

"Can't you spare more than a minute for me anymore, Clary? I'm hurt."

Clary paused with her hand on the doorknob, clutching the pad to her chest with the other arm. She had intended to throw a whole array of insults at him, but every single one seemed to have escaped her mind now. She no longer wanted to scream at him.

She wanted to cry.

"I have to spend as little time with you as possible, Jace," Clary whispered, not turning around. "It's all I can think of to fix us."

And then she left.

--

_Take everything I have with you. _

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Good? Bad? What'd'ya think?

I PROMISE the next chapter will be longer

So press the pretty button and let me know what ya all thought! reviews make me smile, as all my lovely readers know! ;-)

Soffie  
xxxxx


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry this chapter took ages! and it's not even long! and it's the last chapter!!

I'm sorry for this, but i hope it was kinda worth the wait anyway.

Disclaimer: Don't own it :-(

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It was past midnight by the time Jace stood up from the piano. Not that the fact specifically was unusual, but he hadn't been playing the instrument at all the entire time he had been sitting there, his fingers spread out over the keys and his expression contorted into a frown. It was as if he couldn't make his fingers press down on the keys, or that he expected the piano to make the music of its own accord. For the duration of the hours he had been sitting there, he had done little more than this.

Jace whistled softly as he strode through the empty halls of the institute. His hands were buried deep into the pockets of his jacket, hiding the folded sheet of paper in his palm that he had been holding onto for over a week now. He trailed his fingers along the rough texture of the paper, thinking of the creation the soft pencil lines had made on it. It was one of Clary's pictures. He found it in Isabelle's room. He was surprised to discover it was Isabelle who had destroyed Clary's sketchpad, but he hadn't hung around to listen to her reasons for doing so.

He didn't have much time to dwell on the thought, though. Jace could suddenly hear the faint echo of sobs, travelling towards him from the bedroom at the end of the hall. Jace instantly knew it to be Clary's room, and instantly recognised her voice to be the source of the weeping. He cautiously made his way towards the sound of her crying, his face contorted into a rare expression of worry. He might never wish to admit such a thing, but the idea if Clary being miserable didn't completely fill him with joy.

Jace stopped in the doorway, frozen at the sight of her. She was sitting at the end of the bed, her knees drawn up to her chest as she cried into her hands. It was a sight that almost broke his heart. Not a single snide or sarcastic comment sprang to his mind when he saw her sitting there, broken and dejected. All he thought was that he needed to make her smile again; to look at him like he was the only person who could make things right. But that wouldn't happen. He knew that already.

Jace stepped into the room and Clary's head shot up. Her eyes were red from crying, her face streamed with tears, but she still looked beautiful.

"Jace," Clary said his name with a sigh. "What do you want?" She didn't sound spiteful or angry, just sad.

Jace didn't reply, though. He gracefully made his way over to Clary and sat down beside her on the bed. She pulled her arms tightly around her knees, making herself seem even smaller.

"I'm not hear to be your punching bag," Jace said. "Although you're welcome to change that. But I'm not here to mock you for crying, because it's not something I wish to contribute to. It may not seem likely, but I _will _be here for you." He held his hand out to her and smiled softly. "I swear."

Clary's eyes travelled from the floor, to Jace's hand, then to his face. He didn't look like himself at all. His cruel smirk was replaced by the perfect, gentle smile that Clary always wished could be for her. She let out a deep breath and placed her small hand in his. "I'm scared, Jace," she whispered.

Jace nodded understandingly and squeezed her hand comfortingly. "I'm here," he assured her.

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I really liked the idea of Jace being there for Clary when she's hurting, so i hope you all like this.

Please review and let me know what you all thought :-) Thank you all for reading.

Soffie  
xxxx


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